


Rough Draft

by shions_heart



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Chef!Kuroo, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Falling In Love, First Kiss, M/M, Mutual Pining, Neighbors, Novelist!Kenma, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-12 00:44:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9048553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shions_heart/pseuds/shions_heart
Summary: Kozume Kenma's a novelist tasked to write a romance into his action-adventure stories in order to attract more readers, something he has no idea how to do. At a loss, he recruits his attractive next-door neighbor Kuroo Tetsurou to assist him in experiencing what a relationship feels like.He should have anticipated the way things grow more complicated.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [curiouslylazy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/curiouslylazy/gifts).



> this piece was commissioned by the wonderful Purrchan way back in April /)u(\ It took much too long to complete, but I got it done in time for Christmas and her birthday!
> 
> So Happy Birthday and Happy Holidays, Purrchan! I hope you enjoy it~ <3

 

 

 

the thing about love [is] that it [catches] you unawares,  
[turns] up in the most unexpected places,  
even when you [aren't] looking for it.

\--sarra manning, _you don't have to say you love me_

* * *

 

 

Kozume Kenma stares across the desk at Yamamoto Taketora, his agent (and not his friend, despite what the other man would have people believe), wondering if he heard him correctly.

"What?" he asks finally, when Yamamoto only continues to smile at him.

"Romance! Your readers have been shipping Mei and Tetsuya for years now. Don't you think you owe them a little romance? Think of how many more books you'd sell!"

Kenma stares back at Yamamoto blankly. "They have no time for romance," he says flatly. "They have villains to catch."

"And that's all very exciting, but surely even you can't deny the romantic tension that's been building between them." Yamamoto leans over his desk, wiggling his eyebrows in a way that makes Kenma distinctly uncomfortable.

He leans back in his chair, adjusting his large, wire-rimmed glasses. "They're partners."

"Exactly. The potential is there, and I really think you should consider taking them over that line for your next book," Yamamoto says, grinning. "Think of how happy you'd make your fans! You want your books to do well, don't you?"

Kenma thinks of his tiny apartment, the leaky faucet in the bathroom, the instant ramen noodles stacked in his pantry in lieu of actual food in the refrigerator. He looks down at the sleeves of his oversized sweater, bought at a thrift store years ago, and sticks his thumbs through the holes at the cuffs where they've been worn thin. He sighs.

"Yes."

"Glad that's settled then!" Yamamoto leans back. "Let me know when you come up with a plot, and we'll give it to our advertising guys. Get the word out that Mei and Tetsuya are finally officially getting together!" He practically squeals with excitement, as he grabs his phone. "I gotta tell Akane about this. She's gonna go nuts!"

Kenma grimaces, but Yamamoto has been telling his sister trade secrets for years, so he knows he can't stop him. Instead, he stands and walks out the door, not bothering with farewells. As he walks over to the elevators, he picks at the frayed ends of his cuffs, thinking over what to do.

The fact of the matter is, despite writing his characters as extremely close, relying on each other and trusting each other as much as any pair of crime-fighting superheroes do, he's never thought about taking that step into romance. He's not sure he even knows how to write romance. He never has in the past, and having never been interested in a relationship for himself, his thoughts aren't generally geared toward romance in the first place.

He steps out of the elevator once he reaches the first level, walking past reception without glancing at the girl behind the counter who chirps a friendly, "Have a nice day, Kozume-san!"

Exiting the building, Kenma does his best to avoid contact with the passersby. He hunches his shoulders, curling inward to make himself as small as possible, weaving in and out of the crowd. His shoulder-length hair falls forward in front of his face, shielding him, but he keeps his eyes forward in an attempt to not stumble. If he fell in the middle of this crowd he would have to move to Australia or something.

In any case: inadvisable.

He keeps to himself as he boards the bus that'll take him to his apartment, finding a spot near the back where he can sit in solitude. Chewing absently on his thumbnail, he stares out the window, watching the buildings and people go by. At the next stop someone sits down beside him, and he curls further into the window to avoid contact, his heart racing momentarily, wondering if this person is going to try to talk to him. Thankfully, they seem preoccupied with their phone, so after a moment Kenma's able to breathe easier.

He does have to speak to them once in order to get out of his seat at his own stop, but that proves to be easy enough, and he quickly scampers off the bus.

His apartment complex is not the cheapest on the block, but it certainly isn't grand or fancy. The walls are thin, the hallways cramped, and Kenma is fairly sure there's been a murder or two in one of the apartments above him. Maintenance takes forever unless you take care of things yourself, and everyone has to drag their laundry down to the coin laundry on the corner, since the apartments themselves do not come with washer and dryers.

Still, it's not a terrible place to live. It's out of the heart of the city, meaning the nights are mostly quiet.

And the neighbors . . . well, they're friendly.

"Hey, Kozume-kun! How are you today?"

Kenma quickly skirts around one of these overly-friendly neighbors now: a tall bean-pole of a young man named Haiba Lev. He's not sure why Lev continues greet him every day as he takes out the trash, since despite knowing each other from childhood, Kenma never replies or does anything to encourage this behavior. Still, Lev's smile doesn't leave his lips, as Kenma passes, and Kenma knows if he looks over his shoulder he'd see Lev waving at him as he calls,

"See you tomorrow!"

Kenma takes the stairs two steps at a time (the elevator is always broken), nearly winded as he reaches his floor. Here he encounters Fukunaga Shouhei who, while also friendly, is more of Kenma's type of friendly. He only gives Kenma a small silent wave, as he picks up the newspaper from outside his door. Kenma gives him a slight wave back, before moving down the hall toward his own door.

He's looking down as he reaches into his pocket for his keys, and he doesn't see the man in front of him until he slams into a lean chest clothed in a black chef's coat, hard with muscle with just the right amount of softness. Kenma stumbles back, the man reaching to grab his elbow to steady him.

"Shit! Sorry, I didn’t see you. Are you okay?"

Kenma adjusts his glasses that had been knocked askew, blinking up at Kuroo Tetsurou, his next-door neighbor and probably the most attractive person in the entire complex. Kenma feels his cheeks warming, as he quickly looks away.

"Kozume-san?"

"I'm fine!" Kenma blurts out, darting around Kuroo and unlocking his door. He steps inside quickly, shutting the door behind him and locking both bolts. He sags against it with a sigh then, gently banging his forehead against the wood.

"Stupid," he mutters, before sighing and tossing his keys onto the small side table by the door.

Slipping out of his shoes and into his red house slippers, Kenma makes his way through the living room with the single two-seater couch in front of his flat-screen TV and latest gaming console, past the tiny kitchen with barely enough room to turn around, and into his bedroom where his cat Jiji lies curled into a ball on his pillow. Kenma clicks his tongue softly, and Jiji lifts her head slightly to give him a slow blink, yawning and allowing Kenma to scratch her gently beneath her chin, before she settles back down.

Kenma turns toward the window, where his desk sits facing east. His heart sinks into his stomach, as he looks at the black desktop computer, papers covered in notes and outlines spread out everywhere. He stares at the mess that has been untouched for over a week, before moving over to sit in his desk chair.

He pulls his knees up to his chest and chews on his thumbnail, surveying the papers, as he goes over Yamamoto's words in his head.

A romance, huh?

Reaching forward tentatively, Kenma clicks the mouse, the screen lighting up immediately. He stares dully at the flashing black bar right beneath the words _Chapter Three_ in italics.

Sighing, Kenma reaches out once more and minimizes the document with a soft _click_. He can't do this right now. His brain is too loud, and he can already hear Yaku Morisuke in the apartment above him, yelling at Lev about something. Kenma isn't sure why, but Yaku always seems to be yelling. He wonders why the man doesn't find himself a different roommate.

"This environment isn't conducive to writing," Kenma reasons, standing and making his way over to the kitchen to pull out a cup of his instant noodles from the pantry.

Jiji hears him and saunters into the kitchen, mewing as she rubs her back against Kenma's leg, causing him to stumble over her, as he attempts to make his way over to her bowl to refill it.

"Don't be so needy," he scolds. "I fed you this morning. It's not my fault you ate it all too fast."

Jiji doesn't seem to care about this fact, simply digs in to her meal as though it were a gourmet spread. Kenma heats water for the ramen, and once his pathetic meal is finished, he takes it and a glass of water over to the couch to eat in front of the TV.

As he watches an old episode of Pokémon, he tries to ignore the feeling of guilt whispering in the back of his mind. It's not like he can force romance. He needs to do research. Figure out a way to let it flow naturally between the characters. And it's too late for research now, and he's tired.

He'll worry about how to please his audience in the morning.

 

 

 

Morning arrives with no new revelations. It does, however, bring with it the sound of singing from next door. Nearly every morning, ever since Kuroo moved in, Kenma wakes much too early to the sound of Kuroo's voice. At first it was sappy love songs, which made it extremely difficult to resist pounding on the wall in the mornings to try and get Kuroo to shut up.

Then, about a year after this started, Kuroo finally stopped singing. Kenma was relieved and never thought to wonder why the music suddenly ceased. In the past few months, however, Kuroo's been singing again, though this time his songs of choice are mainly anime openings or popular ones from the radio.

Six in the morning is _way_ too early for _anyone_ to be this chipper.

Kenma pulls his covers up over his head, trying to block out the noise and go back to sleep. This fails to work, considering Jiji has now woken, and she kneads Kenma's hipbone until he sits up with a sigh. Scooping Jiji up in his arms, he pads into the kitchen on socked feet, guessing he might as well get up and start working.

 

 

 

A convenience store muffin and some instant coffee later, Kenma sits in front of his computer, fingers poised over the keys, staring at the blank page in front of him.

His heroes have just received their first mission, the one that will lead them stumbling into a bigger conspiracy, and now with the pressure to include romance, Kenma's not entirely sure how to move forward. Mei and Tetsuya are already close. They spend time together outside of their missions, they banter comfortably, they've both saved each other's lives, and they trust each other implicitly.

 _Isn't that more important than whether they kiss or not?_ Kenma frowns at the screen. His characters already share a deep bond, and it makes sense that his readers would ship them together, but still . . . shifting their relationship into a romantic one . . . wouldn't that feel forced?

"I guess one of them should start flirting," Kenma muses aloud to Jiji, who doesn't look up from where she's cleaning herself on the bed. "Tetsuya would be the most likely one to start."

Tetsuya's always been the more confident of the two. Although Mei is straight-forward and efficient and intelligent, she's definitely more reserved, preferring to work her angles in the shadows, while Tetsuya follows her lead from point A to point B and so forth. He can be loud and reckless at times, forcing Mei to put him in his place, but it works. He depends on her to keep him in line, keep him grounded, and she depends on him to always be there, to come to her side when she needs help or to chase after a villain when she's unable to, due to their different abilities.

They have a mutual push and pull in their relationship that Kenma supposes he could see turn into something romantic . . . but _how_?

The singing starts up again, softer this time, as Kenma assumes Kuroo has moved into his kitchen to make breakfast. Kenma turns his gaze to the wall in front of him, an idea slowly forming.

Unfortunately, said idea requires he get dressed, and he's forced to survey the run-down state of his wardrobe. Sighing, he pulls out a pair of jeans that are ripped in the knees, and an oversized sweater that's at least nicer than the one he'd been wearing yesterday. He yanks a comb through his hair and takes off his glasses, before grimacing and putting them back on. He ran out of contacts three weeks ago and didn't bother to order any more seeing as he never went anywhere anyway and they were annoying to boot.

He doesn't check himself in the mirror before he leaves. He knows he looks like a frumpy grandma. Normally this doesn't bother him, as he's comfortable in his baggy, worn-to-perfect-softness clothes. But considering whom he's about to speak to officially for the first time, he can't help but wish he had a better outfit. He doesn't want to make a poor first impression.

Kuroo Tetsurou looks, of course, amazing. When he opens the door and blinks down at Kenma, he's wearing just a plain white t-shirt and some sweatpants, but both hug his figure attractively, and Kenma feels even _more_ self-conscious.

"Kozume-kun!" Kuroo looks surprised, and Kenma doesn't blame him. He's not exactly one to knock on his neighbors' doors. "Is something wrong?"

"I need to ask you something," Kenma says quickly, before he loses his nerve.

Kuroo rests his hand on the doorframe, raising an eyebrow. Kenma quickly looks off to the side, pretty certain Kuroo is going to say no and so bracing himself for the disappointment. He's already running through other options in his mind as he continues.

"It's about my work. I'm a writer, and—"

"I know," Kuroo interrupts, a faint smirk twitching over his lips. "I've read your stuff."

Kenma is pretty sure he wants to die. He can't do this. It's too embarrassing. He's just about to tell Kuroo to forget everything and turn away, when Kuroo takes a step back, gesturing into his apartment. "Do you want to come in?"

 _No_ , is Kenma's automatic response. But that would be counterproductive. So instead he walks past Kuroo, murmuring a quiet, "sorry for intruding."

Immediately he can tell Kuroo's apartment is much nicer than his. Not because it's bigger (because it's not), but he seems much more organized and his furniture is better kept. There's a low coffee table in the living area, surrounded by soft-looking pillows. Mounted on the wall is a flat-screen TV above a shelf that holds movies carefully arranged in rows. On either side of the TV are potted plants that seem to be thriving. Against the wall beside the door is a bookshelf that's completely full from top to bottom.

From the kitchen comes a smell that sends Kenma's stomach gurgling. It's rich and sweet, and he finds himself gravitating towards it. Kuroo follows him, chuckling softly.

"It's dashimaki tamago," he says, leaning in the entryway. "Do you want some?"

Kenma looks at the carefully arranged rolls on the single plate and hesitates. This isn't why he came over, but if Kuroo is offering . . .

Kuroo steps around him, picking up the plate and holding it and a pair of chopsticks out toward him. "Have some. I insist."

Kenma takes the chopsticks, mutters a soft "thanks for the food," before selecting one of the smaller rolls to try. The flavor bursts sweet and salty in his mouth, and he has to resist the urge to moan at the taste. He quickly selects another roll, and then another. It's only when he realizes he's eaten half the plate that he pauses. Kuroo's watching him with an amused look, and Kenma quickly sets down the chopsticks and steps away.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," Kuroo laughs, making his way to the living area then to settle down on one of the pillows. He sets his plate in front of him, and Kenma shuffles over to sit across from him.

He picks at the ends of his sleeves, resisting the urge to bite at his thumb, as he looks everywhere around the room except for at Kuroo. He notices that most of the movies beneath the TV are romantic comedies. He glances from these to Kuroo and back again, snorting softly.

"What is it?" Kuroo asks curiously.

"You don't seem like the type to watch these kinds of movies," Kenma states, gesturing to them.

Kuroo raises an eyebrow, smirking. "You mean because of my cool, bad-boy persona?"

Kenma rolls his eyes. "Sure," he says, and he's surprised by how at ease he feels. Normally he avoids speaking with strangers, or even people he sees on a regular basis but doesn't acknowledge often. But there's something about Kuroo's presence that's calming.

"So . . . you wanted to ask me something?" Kuroo prompts after a moment.

"My agent thinks I should add romance to my books," Kenma says, cutting right to the chase. "I don't know how to write romance."

Kuroo smirks. "Really? I find that hard to believe. You're pretty talented. I would think you'd be able to write most things, if not anything."

Kenma turns his gaze to the table, adjusting his glasses and trying to ignore the heat creeping up his face. "Yeah, well. Even if that's true, I've never . . . been in a relationship. I don't know how one works, realistically."

"And you want my help . . . how, exactly?" Kuroo asks, leaning his elbows on the table. He's grinning faintly, so Kenma figures he already knows what he's going to ask. The fact that he's going to make him say it is somewhat irritating, but Kenma swallows his pride.

"I want . . . you to date me. For research," he says, forcing himself to look Kuroo in the eye. "I'm willing to pay . . ."

He trails off as Kuroo starts laughing. He shifts in his seat, scowling at the table. Eventually Kuroo's laughter trails off.

"Wait, you're serious," he says, his eyes widening.

"I wouldn't joke about something like this," Kenma huffs.

Kuroo fidgets, suddenly looking nervous. He runs his hand through his wild hair, rubbing the back of his neck then. "How do you figure I'm a good person to ask?"

Kenma looks up at him, shifting his gaze away after a moment. "You seem . . . like a good candidate." He doesn't admit that he chose Kuroo because he looks like the type of person to have gone on a lot of dates. He's unsure if that would be received as a compliment or not. And accidentally insulting the man whose help he needs isn't in his best interest.

"Because of my obvious charm and attractiveness?" Kuroo asks, resting his elbow on the table, his chin in his hand as he looks across at Kenma with a slow grin.

"Okay." Kenma's not going to refute that, even though he has to resist the urge to roll his eyes.

Kuroo laughs again. "When would you like to start?"

"Immediately, would be preferable," Kenma says, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible.

Kuroo rubs his cheek thoughtfully. "Well, I work tonight, but I could take you out tomorrow? What types of places do you like to eat?"

"Does it matter?" Kenma asks, blinking at him.

Kuroo raises an eyebrow. "Of course it does. If I'm going to give you a good experience to base your writing on, then I need to know what you like."

Kenma bites his lip. "I . . . like apple pie," he admits.

Kuroo grins. "Perfect. I'll pick you up at six."

 

 

 

 

***

 

 

Kenma is nervous.

He knows he shouldn't be. It's not a real date, after all. But he needs this to be perfect. He needs it to be a night he can write about, everything working out the way he wants it to. If he does or says something to mess things up . . . he'll have to find another person to fake date. And nobody else in his building is appealing at all.

Lev is much too loud and obnoxious (not to mention they practically grew up together, so that makes him even less attractive). There's Yaku, but considering his blunt and argumentative nature, Kenma isn't sure what kind of dates he'll end up with, with him. Fukunaga is nice and quiet, but he'd probably be _too_ quiet. There's Shibayama from downstairs, nice and dependable, but he's very young, and something tells Kenma he hasn't dated much, if at all.

Really, Kuroo is the ideal candidate even outside of his assumed experience. He works in the evening more often than not, which means they can have their dates in the afternoon, leaving the night for Kenma to write when he works best. He always treats everyone with respect, so Kenma won't have to worry about impromptu arguments or fights while they're out.

And, okay, he's good-looking. Kenma can't deny that. And a nice view is always a plus.

He sits on the edge of the bed, contemplating what to do as he waits. He's already tried writing, but after staring blankly at that blinking vertical line, he gave up and has been sitting on his bed for the past hour or so.

Glancing at his phone, he contemplates his options. In most romantic comedy movies, the people going on dates always ask their friends for advice on what to wear and what to say. Both Mei and Tetsuya have friends they confide in. Maybe he can get inspiration from a similar conversation.

Of course that would involve calling someone he hasn't seen in years, and he doesn't do well on the phone in the first place.

Inhaling deeply, Kenma picks up his phone and dials the number.

"Oh my! Is this my little Kisa calling me after all this time?"

Kenma can't help but smile faintly, at the warm, affectionate tone.

"Hey, Alisa. Um, do you have a minute?"

"For you? Of course! Let me just look over the last page of this spread for next month's issue . . . aaaaaand done! Okay, what can I do for you? It's been a while!"

"Oh, um. Yeah. Sorry about that." Kenma scratches his ear absently.

"Is my brother behaving himself?"

"He's . . . loud. But okay, I guess."

"And how are you doing? I read your latest book, you know. It was excellent! But I hope you're getting enough sleep and enough to eat?"

Kenma huffs. Alisa's always been this way. Motherly and caring, almost to a fault. He was grateful for the Haiba family when he was struggling through school. With his parents gone so often, he spent more time at the Haiba residence than his own home. They fed him, made sure he was clothed properly, and when he went to university they paid part of his tuition. He couldn't be more grateful for them (though he could do without Lev following him everywhere. It was _not_ his intention to wind up in the same apartment complex as him).

"I'm fine. I just . . . needed to ask your advice on something."

"Oh?"

Kenma sighs, lying back on his bed. Jiji hops up onto his stomach, kneading it for a moment before curling up into a ball. He pats her absently with his free hand.

"I'm going on a date tonight—"

"A DATE?!"

Kenma grimaces, holding the phone away from his ear and frowning at it. That trait seems to run in the family.

"Sorry, I'm sorry," Alisa says quickly. "I'm just! I'm so happy for you, Kisa! Who is it? Can I know? Where are you going?"

"It's not a real date."

That puts an immediate damper on her enthusiasm. "Oh? It isn't?"

Kenma shakes his head, before remembering she can't see him. "No. It's just for research. I chose someone in my building, and he's willing to date me so I can gain experience to write from."

"Mmm." Kenma can practically hear Alisa buzzing with excitement. "You know what's going to happen though, right?"

"Don't."

"You know how these things go in romance movies! You're going to fall in love~" Alisa sing-songs, giggling afterwards.

"I highly doubt that."

"Just because you haven't fallen in love in the past, that doesn't mean you never will."

Kenma sighs. "Look, I called you because I wanted advice, not for you to start planning my wedding."

"Okay, okay, but I'm totally planning your wedding once you fall in love with this guy," Alisa says, to which Kenma simply rolls his eyes. "What do you need advice with?"

"Just . . . how does one prepare for a date?"

"Well, they usually pick something nice to wear, for starters. Do you have anything?"

"I have thrift store clothes."

"Kenma! That won't do at all! If I wasn't in New York right now, I'd remedy that immediately. I bet you're still wearing those horrible glasses too, aren't you?"

Kenma touches them self-consciously. "Contacts are annoying."

Alisa tsks. "You know what I have to do."

Kenma's stomach drops. "Can't you just . . . tell me where to shop?"

"With your terrible taste in clothing? Absolutely not. I'm texting Lev right now."

Kenma groans, realizing just how big of a mistake this was.

 

 

 

 

During most of his childhood, Kenma did his best to avoid Lev at all costs. Despite them ending up going to the same high school, the same college, and then the same apartment, he thinks he's done a fairly good job at keeping the tall half-Russian at a distance.

Now, thanks to his brilliant idea to call Alisa, he's stuck with him at this fancy department store, looking through suits he can barely afford.

"Can't I just . . . wear a sweater and jeans? I don't even know where he's taking me. This could be completely overdressing." Kenma wrinkles his nose, as he holds up the sleeve of one suit jacket to look at the price.

"We just need to clean you up some!" Lev exclaims. "I bet you could look super cute if you stopped wearing such awful, frumpy clothes!"

"Says the guy wearing suspenders and loafers."

"They're _Armani_."

Kenma blinks at him blankly. Turning back to the suits at hand, he shakes his head. "I don't like any of these," he declares, releasing the sleeve and taking a step back.

Lev studies him for a moment before snapping his fingers. "I know just the thing!"

He dashes off, and Kenma's forced to follow him, sighing and resisting the urge to pull out his phone and play some Candy Crush. This all feels like a waste of time. He highly doubts Lev of all people is going to find him something he'll like and be comfortable in. That guy is the definition of loud and flashy. Even now he's wearing a leopard print jacket like it's normal.

"Here!" Lev pulls a dark red turtle-neck sweater off a rack, holding it up to show Kenma. "This with some black slacks would look awesome on you!"

Kenma steps forward to take the sleeve. The material is soft, incredibly soft, and when he looks at the price tag, it's not as expensive as the suit (though it will dip into his gaming fund quite a bit). Lev drops it in Kenma's arms, grabbing him by the shoulders then to push him toward the fitting room.

"Go try it on! Go! Go!"

Kenma stumbles slightly, frowning over his shoulder at Lev, but he walks toward the room. Lev grabs a pair of black slacks as they pass a few, dropping it over Kenma's head.

"This too!"

Kenma snatches it off quickly, ducking into the fitting room before Lev can fling any more clothes at him.

The outfit, once he has it on, actually doesn't look bad. He likes the way the slacks hug his hips, and how the turtle-neck fits on his shoulders. It feels comfortable, and the sleeves are even a little long, just how he likes it.

When he steps out to show Lev, the young man's eyes widen, before he nods vigorously. "Yes, yes. That's it."

"Great. Can we go now?"

"You're only going to get one outfit?!"

But Kenma's already ducked back into the fitting room to change back. He doesn't think he needs to buy more than one. He's hoping to clarify with Kuroo tonight that he prefers more casual settings, in which case his normal clothes will be fine.

"At least let me do your hair," Lev says, as they check out.

Kenma reaches up to touch the ends of his hair. "What's wrong with it?" he asks, frowning.

"It's so boring! And you have terrible split-ends."

"I'm not letting you near my head with scissors."

"I'm really good at it! I do my own hair and Yaku-san's hair too, and we always look great!"

Kenma regards Lev's hair skeptically, conceding he does have a point. "I don't like it short," he says, and Lev crows with triumph.

 

 

 

Standing in front of his bathroom mirror, Kenma carefully touches his hair for what's probably the hundredth time. Lev re-bleached it, trimmed it, and braided back the top half, save for the pieces of hair that fall against Kenma's temples, which he insisted be kept down to keep his vision narrowed. With the new hair and the new clothes, Kenma hardly recognizes himself. But even so, he's comfortable in the clothes, and he doesn't think he'll stand out too much, and that's all that matters.

He's cleaning the lenses of his glasses when he hears the knock on the door. Fitting them over his ears, he walks over to open it, blinking at Kuroo standing in front of him.

To be frank, he looks amazing. He's wearing a black suit jacket over a white button down shirt that's open at the collar, with black slacks similar to the ones Kenma is wearing. Kenma purses his lips, thinking whoever sees them together is going to _know_ it's a fake date just by looking at them.

"Wow," Kuroo says, and when Kenma looks back at his face, he notices the smirk. "You sure clean up well. Who knew you actually had a nice body under those baggy clothes?"

Kenma blinks. "Is that what someone would say to their date after seeing them dressed up for the first time?" He reaches for his coat, checking the pocket to make sure his travel-sized notebook and pen were there.

"Uh, that's what I'm saying right now. I mean, I'm saying you look good. It's a compliment. To you." Kuroo rubs the back of his neck, clearing his throat awkwardly. Kenma watches him shift his weight, as his suave smirk turns into a sheepish grin. "Sorry. I wasn't trying to be offensive or anything."

"It's fine," Kenma says, pulling on the coat. He takes out the notebook and pen and jots down a quick note. _Compliment your date._ He stares down at the note for a moment, before realizing Kuroo had been complimenting _him_. Apparently with sincerity.

Fighting a blush, he tucks the notebook back into his pocket. "Thank you."

Kuroo eyes the pocket with the notebook. "Are you going to be taking notes throughout the date?"

"Yes."

"Ah." For some reason this makes Kuroo appear nervous. He runs his hand through his hair, biting his lip a moment before giving Kenma a crooked smile. "Well, we should get going. We don’t want to miss our reservation! Oh, and I don't drive so we'll have to walk to the train. Sorry." He turns away muttering, "should've sprung for that limo."

"A limousine would have been overkill, I think," Kenma says, stepping out into the hall and locking the door behind him.

Kuroo smirks faintly. "Can you blame me for wanting to impress you?"

"You don't have to," Kenma says, shaking his head. "This is a business arrangement, remember? You only have to act the way you would on a regular date."

"Sure, but I _would_ want to impress my date. I'd want them to think I'm cool, so they'll want to go out with me again. That's generally how it works." Kuroo walks with him down the hall to the stairwell, reaching out to grab Kenma's elbow before he misses the first step, his nose buried in his notebook.

"Careful," Kuroo says with a soft laugh. He takes the notebook from Kenma and slips it into his coat pocket. "Why don't you wait until you're sitting down?"

Kenma shoves his hands inside his pocket, feeling better with his fingers wrapped around the book. "What if the person you're dating already knows you're not as cool as you think you are?" he asks, keeping his eyes on the steps as they make their way down.

"Are you saying I'm not cool?" Kuroo asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Are you cool?" Kenma shoots back. "I saw your DVD collection."

Kuroo laughs. "Touché. I'd still want to impress them. Help them see a different side of me that maybe they hadn't considered before, so their regard for me could hopefully change into something more." He rubs his chin thoughtfully, and Kenma itches to pull out his notebook, but he waits until they're at the bottom of the stairs and have stepped outside to jot it down.

Kuroo watches him curiously as they walk, gently grabbing his elbow once more to guide him around a lamppost. "What got you into writing? Is that something you always wanted to do?"

Kenma glances up, not having expecting the question. "I wanted to go into video game design," he admits. "Story development . . . I had these characters I wanted to see in a video game, and I wrote a short story for them and my mom submitted it to this magazine, and I guess it was good because people kept saying I should continue writing." He shrugs. "So I did."

"Wow. So you never considered going back and trying to get into video game design?"

Kenma tilts his head, wondering why Kuroo sounds so interested. "I like writing. Besides, it'd be too much effort to go back to school and everything now."

"Hm." Kuroo doesn't comment, but he sticks his hands in his pockets, tilting his head back slightly.

Kenma turns back to his notebook, but he can't think of anything else to add at the moment, so he slips it back into his own pocket. He realizes after a moment that he should probably extend the same question back to Kuroo. As he glances up at him, he does find himself wondering about the man.

Who exactly is Kuroo Tetsurou?

"What about you?" he asks. "When did you know you wanted to be a chef?"

Kuroo smirks. "Women love a good cook," he says confidently.

Kenma raises an eyebrow. "You chose to become a chef to pick up women?"

Kuroo's smirk doesn't diminish. "It works like a charm."

Kenma frowns, fairly certain there's more to it than that. Kuroo's turning away, however, leading them into the local train station. He pays for their fares, and Kenma tries to stick close without making it look like he is. The station isn't too crowded, but there are more people than he's comfortable with. Kuroo doesn't seem to notice the increased proximity, simply finds them a place to sit inside the train. He lets Kenma take the window seat, and then they're off, further into downtown.

The actual ride only takes about ten minutes, and during that time Kuroo strikes up a conversation with the older gentleman across from them who has his dog in a backpack. It doesn't escape Kenma's notice that the woman behind the man is staring at Kuroo, but Kuroo seems oblivious, smiling and petting the dog as it wiggles in its owner's lap.

"That lady was checking you out," Kenma says once they're off the train.

Kuroo blinks. "What lady?"

"The one sitting behind the man with the dog." Kenma stuffs his hands inside his coat pockets once more, studying Kuroo's reaction.

He glances back toward the train once before looking back at Kenma. "Well, I _am_ a rather attractive man. I'm sure she just couldn't help herself." He smirks, and Kenma rolls his eyes.

"Don't worry," Kuroo says then with a laugh. "I'm not going to flirt with other people while I’m on a date with you. That'd be rude."

"It's not a real date," Kenma says flatly. "You can do whatever you like."

"You keep doing that. Do you think I'm going to get too carried away and forget this isn't real?" Kuroo raises his eyebrows.

Kenma purses his lips, looking away. "I just want the boundaries to be clear," he murmurs.

"They're crystal."

There's something flat in Kuroo's tone, and Kenma's insides squirm uneasily. He lengthens his strides, making Kenma take two at a time to keep up with him, and the silence grows uncomfortable.

"It's here," Kuroo says then, opening the door to a Western-style restaurant. The tables are covered with white linen, and the lighting is dim.

Kenma makes mental notes of everything he sees, pulling out his phone to discreetly take photos of the place, while Kuroo steps up to the host stand to confirm their reservations. There's a woman there already, speaking urgently to host. Kenma scrolls through the pictures he took absently, not really paying attention to the conversation. He looks up when Kuroo comes back with an apologetic smile.

"Looks like we're going to have to wait a bit."

Kenma frowns. "Why?"

Kuroo glances over his shoulder, rubbing the back of his neck. "They couldn't find that woman's reservation and apparently it's her anniversary or something so . . . I let them take ours."

Kenma stares at him, torn between being impressed and being annoyed. "Why?" he asks again.

Kuroo shrugs. "It felt like the right thing to do. She was really upset."

Kenma sighs, pocketing his phone. "So what are we supposed to do while we wait?"

Kuroo gestures toward the cushioned benches just inside the restaurant for those who need to wait to be seated. "It'll only be about thirty minutes they said, so we could sit and get to know each other more?" he grins crookedly.

It's rather endearing, but Kenma tries to banish that thought from his mind. He does sit, however, stiffly, and pulls his phone out once more. It buzzes in his hand, and he looks down to see a text from Alisa.

 **Alisa**  
_hows it going so far kisa??? lev sent me pics of..._

The rest of the text he'll have to open his phone to read, and Kuroo's already leaning over to see what he's looking at, so Kenma quickly shuts off the screen, giving Kuroo small glare.

"Don't be nosy."

"Texting while on a date is rude," Kuroo shoots back before smirking. "Who's Alisa?"

Kenma's neck burns, and he keeps his eyes on his phone, clutching it tightly and cursing inwardly. "Nobody."

"Your sister?"

"I'm an only child."

"Hmm. She called you 'kisa' . . . what does that mean?"

"None of your business."

"I'm just trying to make conversation!"

Kenma scowls. "It's just a stupid pet name she has for me. She's a friend of the family."

Kuroo hums thoughtfully. "So what does it mean?"

Kenma rolls his eyes. "You're annoyingly persistent."

"My mom always told me to never give up on my dreams."

Kenma coughs to fight a laugh. "It's Russian. She and her brother are half. You might know her brother, actually. He's Lev."

Kuroo's eyes widen. "Haiba Lev? The giant kid with the silver hair?"

Kenma nods. Kuroo looks lost in thought for a moment, and Kenma hopes he distracted him enough that he won't remember his original question. He slips his phone into his pocket and watches the servers bring food to their tables. His stomach growls softly.

"So what does it mean?" Kuroo asks for the third time.

Kenma huffs, realizing Kuroo really isn't going to let this go. "It means 'kitten,' okay?" he growls, looking up at Kuroo and daring him to laugh.

The silent threat is useless. Kuroo snorts, a soft laugh escaping even as he tries to hold it back by biting his lip. He can't hide his grin though.

"That's so cute," he gasps.

"Shut up," Kenma says, kicking at Kuroo's ankle beside his.

"I can see the resemblance," Kuroo says, still struggling to catch his breath as his body shakes with quiet laughter.

"She called me that when I was a toddler and it just stuck," Kenma says, trying to save face.

"If I call you that, will you bite me?" Kuroo asks, smirking as his eyes gleam with mirth.

Kenma's not sure why that makes his face heat up further, but he scowls and turns away. "Stop acting so immature," he gripes. "You're an adult."

Kuroo grins, leaning toward him. His lips brush against Kenma's ear, as he lowers his voice to whisper.

"It's called flirting, kitten. Write that down in your notebook."

Kenma stiffens, his entire body feeling warm. He curls his hands into his coat, clutching the material tightly. Kuroo moves back, and the atmosphere shifts suddenly, as awkwardness descends. When Kenma chances a look to the side, he sees Kuroo studying a menu intensely, his own face looking somewhat flushed.

_Did he embarrass himself by doing that?_

Kenma's indignation and annoyance lessens, and he nudges Kuroo's arm gently. "What's good to eat here? I've never been."

Kuroo brightens. "Oh! I actually went to culinary school with the head baker here. He makes an amazing apple pie, and since it's your favorite I figured this would be the place to go. The actual food's not bad either! Not as good as my stuff, of course, but I thought taking you to my restaurant on our first date _might_ seem a little narcissistic. Plus, I can't make apple pie to save my life, and I didn't want the night to end in disappointment."

Kenma blinks. "Oh."

That's . . . oddly considerate.

"Kuroo-san?" The host approaches them with a small bow. "Your table is ready."

Once seated with their drinks and their food on its way, Kuroo folds his arms on the table and leans over them with a faint grin.

"So those two characters you wrote that short story for . . . were they Mei and Tetsuya?"

Kenma nods.

Kuroo tilts his head, his grin growing crooked. "So all the books you've written about them, were they originally supposed to be games?"

Kenma shrugs. "They're the simpler versions, I guess. There was this one arc I wanted to try where Mei goes evil and tries to kill Tetsuya—"

"Whoa, seriously? No way!"

Kenma squints through his glasses, but Kuroo seems sincere in his interest, and so he continues, cautiously.

"Um, yeah. But in the game . . . if you played as Mei you'd have to make this choice that would have you either let Tetsuya die in order to escape, or let yourself be captured in order to save Tetsuya's life. If you played as Tetsuya, you'd have to either try to convince Mei to turn good again, or just fight her to the death."

"That sounds intense," Kuroo says, shaking his head. "Which choice would you pick?"

Kenma blinks. "I don't know. I never ended up plotting out how each route would end. It doesn't translate as well in a novel . . . the choice wouldn't be the readers', so I'd have to figure out how _I_ wanted the story to end, and I didn't know what conclusion I liked best."

Kuroo looks over Kenma's shoulder, his expression thoughtful. "I'd let myself be captured to save Tetsuya's life. And I think I'd do whatever I could to bring Mei back to the good side."

"How selfless of you," Kenma says, studying Kuroo's face.

Kuroo leans back in his seat, shrugging. "Not necessarily. I could have selfish reasons for wanting to bring Mei back, and selfish reasons to save Tetsuya's life. But regardless of my reasoning, both choices would be the right thing to do, I think. Everyone deserves a second chance."

"You'd probably be better off not playing that type of game at all," Kenma muses.

Kuroo laughs. "Maybe! Playing as someone evil or playing against an evil character my character is supposed to care about sounds really stressful."

_Is this guy for real? So far he seems too good to be true. Is he putting on an act so I'll like him? He should know that's not necessary . . ._

"I bet you're the type of person who, if someone told you you could only save one of two people falling from a cliff, would respond by saying you'd try to save both."

Kuroo smirks, putting a hand over his heart. "What can I say? I've always been this kind."

Kenma studies him. His expression is jocular, but there's something off about his eyes. The look in them doesn't quite match the lightness of his tone. Kenma isn't sure what to think of that, however, and the conversation ends as their food arrives.

The topic continues as Kuroo asks Kenma questions about what games he likes and has played. Kenma honestly forgets to take notes throughout the meal, too engrossed in explaining his favorite missions, bosses, characters, graphics, etc. It's only toward the end of the meal that he realizes he's been talking nearly this whole time, and Kuroo hasn't said anything about himself.

Despite knowing he doesn't have to learn anything about Kuroo himself to write out a date scene, Kenma finds himself growing more curious about the man in front of him. He appears so open and friendly, and yet he continuously deflects personal questions. Rather cleverly, at that.

He's thinking about addressing this, when the apple pie is brought out. It's warm and sweet and absolutely delicious. Kenma has to keep himself from moaning at the taste. He does close his eyes to savor it, however, and when he opens them, he finds Kuroo watching him with a strange smile on his face.

Immediately, self-consciousness tucks Kenma back into his box. He leans back, shoulders hunching toward his ears, as he hides behind the strips of hair that aren't braided back. "What's with that face?" he grumbles.

"Nothing," Kuroo says lightly. "You're just really cute."

Kenma shakes his head. "It's the outfit," he says, adjusting his glasses and poking at his apple pie. Deciding it's too good to waste despite the weird mood that's fallen over him, he takes another bite.

"Nah, you were cute before. The outfit just brings it out more."

Kenma feels heat crawling up his neck for the second time that evening. It's annoying, the way Kuroo keeps getting under his skin. He stews in his embarrassment a moment, before getting out his pen and notebook and writing down Kuroo's words, as well as his reaction.

"Oh. That wasn't—"

Kenma looks up at Kuroo expectantly, calming himself down with the knowledge that Kuroo is simply playing the part of an interested party. Like earlier when he teasingly flirted with him. This is a fake date, after all. Kuroo bites his lip before giving him a faint smile.

"It's nothing. Never mind."

Kenma dismisses it and finishes taking his notes. The atmosphere feels different, then, as he sits back and slips the notebook back into his coat pocket. Kuroo is quiet, as he finishes his dessert, and so Kenma falls back into his natural state of silence as well. He's exhausted from talking so much, anyway.

He's not sure anyone has ever gotten him to talk so much. But when Kuroo kept asking questions about the games he enjoys . . . he couldn't help himself. It's strange, how easily Kuroo was able to pull him out of his shell. He was so . . . comfortable with him. He's never comfortable around people. Even Alisa, whom he really likes, he tolerates more through texts and instant messaging.

But as the night draws to a close (Kuroo insists on paying and they walk back to the train station together), Kenma finds himself wishing they didn't have to leave just yet. He can't come up with an excuse to stay out, though, so he simply walks back to the apartment without a word.

"Thank you for the date," Kenma says, standing at his door.

Kuroo smirks faintly. "Was it everything you hoped for?"

Kenma considers this. "It was informative," he decides, because it was. He's just not entirely sure what to make of everything else that happened.

"You want to go out again?" Kuroo asks, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms. "This band I like has a show downtown next weekend. I was going to go with a friend from the restaurant, but I can give you his ticket instead, if you want."

Kenma blinks. He's never been to a concert before, always figuring it'd be crowded and noisy, but if that's something couples do . . .

He nods. "Okay."

"Cool," Kuroo says, grinning as he straightens. He reaches for Kenma then, taking his upper arm in his hand and bending down toward him.

Kenma stiffens, wondering if Kuroo is about to kiss him. He knows that sometimes happens after first dates. He's seen it in movies and shows. But he's never been kissed before, has never _wanted_ to kiss anyone before, and he finds himself scrambling to figure out whether or not he would mind if Kuroo _did_ kiss him.

Kuroo hesitates, and Kenma's heart lodges itself in his throat. He closes his eyes, fingers curling into fists at his sides, but all he feels is a light brush of lips against his forehead.

"I'll see you later, then," he says, his voice soft yet warm.

When Kenma opens his eyes, Kuroo is gone. He turns, watching the man's back as he walks down the hall to his own apartment door. His heart pounds rapidly in his chest, and he's not entirely sure how he feels. Relieved? Disappointed? Confused? A combination of the three?

Digging his keys out of his pocket, he quickly unlocks his door and slips inside.

He's tired, and his brain is still whirling trying to figure out what kind of person Kuroo Tetsurou actually is, and if he made the right decision with this whole fake dating thing, and yet he manages to write two thousand words in the next chapter before he passes out.

 

 

 

 

***

 

 

Kenma actually finds himself writing more in the following week than he has in the past few months. After much contemplation, he realizes that he doesn't need to have the romance start right off the bat; that it would be better to gradually include it as the plot he originally planned for the novel unfurls. So with that decision out of the way, he's able to write the scenes he wanted to in the first place, only this time adding a few details here and there of how Mei notices things about Tetsuya that she hadn't before. Like how at ease she is with him, how comfortable their conversations and time together are, and how safe she feels with him. Kenma describes the warmth that has started to build in her, stronger than before, whenever she spends time with her partner, hears his laugh, and sees his smile.

He thinks he's doing pretty well with it, and he's so caught up in telling his story that he almost forgets about his second date with Kuroo. He hasn't really been outside of the apartment the past week, so he runs low on cup noodles. He runs down to the convenience store on the corner and is coming back up when he runs into Kuroo on the stairs.

"Hey!" he says, his eyes lighting up in a way that has Kenma staring down at the noodles in his arms. "Long time no see! What's the deal? You never call, you never write . . . was the date that bad?"

Kenma knows he's teasing him, but he can't help but feel defensive for some reason. "I've been writing," he mutters, looking off to the side. "And it's only been a week . . ."

"Are we still on for tonight?"

Kenma lifts his head, frowning slightly. "What's tonight?"

Kuroo blinks, the grin slipping from his face. "You forgot? That concert I told you about. It's tonight."

"Oh." Kenma's stomach squirms. "I was going to write tonight."

"You've been writing every night."

Kenma frowns again. "It's my job."

Kuroo flushes, his gaze falling to the floor. "Right, yeah, I know. I just . . . thought you wanted us to date. For research." He gestures toward Kenma's pocket, indicating the place Kenma usually keeps his notebook and pen.

"I got what I needed."

Kuroo looks skeptical. "After one date?"

Kenma bites the inside of his cheek. The truth of the matter is that Kenma saw a side of Kuroo he wasn't expecting, and the confusion he felt as he stood in front of his door, relieved and disappointed that Kuroo didn't take his first kiss, hasn't completely disappeared. It's been lingering at the corners of his mind all week, ever present whenever his mind isn't focused on writing.

He isn't exactly eager to rekindle it.

But it's also true that he hasn't exactly gathered all the information he _could_ receive from dating Kuroo, and so he finds himself relenting.

"I suppose one more won't hurt," he mumbles.

"What was that?"

Kenma looks back at Kuroo, and notices his shit-eating grin. He scowls.

"You heard me," he says, stepping past him on the stairs to continue toward his apartment.

"I'll be by to pick you up at eight o' clock sharp! Wear something sexy!"

Kenma shuts his door with a little more force than necessary.

He then calls Alisa in a panic.

"What do people wear to concerts?"

He's never been this concerned about his clothing before. But he's fairly certain he'll stand out in his usual frumpy clothes, and he's pretty sure any unwanted attention while he's already on edge from being there in the first place will tip him over that edge.

"Ooh you're going to a concert! I take it your first date with Kuroo-san went well?"

"It was fine." Kenma says stiffly, staring into his closet.

"That's all you're going to tell me? What do you think of him? Did he sweep you off your feet?"

Kenma frowns. "No."

Alisa sighs. "Getting information out of you is like pulling teeth, I swear. Okay, what kind of concert is this?"

". . . I don't know."

"Unbelievable. Okay, you can't really go wrong with jeans, and just . . . I don't know! Black always works. Maybe some red. You look good in red."

Kenma squints into his closet, wondering if he has something that will work.

"Thanks, bye."

"Wait! You have to tell me—"

Kenma hangs up, rifling through his closet until he finds a black sweater near the back that he hasn't worn in years. It's still baggy on him, though not as large as the others, and he finds his nicest jeans that don't have holes in them. He pairs these with a red scarf and some black boots and pulls his coat on, as he hears the knock on the door.

Slipping his notebook and pen into his coat pocket last minute, he opens the door to find Kuroo standing in black jeans and a black leather jacket over a tight red shirt. He eyes Kenma's outfit, while Kenma tries not to stare.

"We match!" Kuroo says, a faint smirk tilting his lips. "People are definitely going to think we're a couple."

"I should change then," Kenma says, deadpan.

Kuroo narrows his eyes, and Kenma rolls his, shoving past Kuroo to head for the stairs. "It was a joke."

Kuroo follows him. "I didn't know you could make jokes," he says teasingly.

Kenma shrugs. "You don't know me very well."

"I'd like to."

Kenma pauses at the top of the stairs, glancing over at Kuroo, wondering if he'd heard that murmured statement correctly or if his mind is playing tricks on him. Kuroo keeps walking, though, taking the steps two at a time.

"Come on, we're going to miss our train!"

Kenma shakes his head to clear it and hurries after him.

 

 

 

 

The place is packed.

It doesn't start out that bad. Kuroo and Kenma find a nice spot near the front to stand, and Kuroo gets them some refreshments. While he chats with a nearby fan about the band they're about to see, Kenma looks around the venue, taking note of the details. He doubts he'll ever have Mei and Tetsuya go to a concert, but with the high ceilings and nice acoustics, he thinks it'd be a pretty good setting for a showdown with a villain.

He holds his cup of soda with both hands, having declined alcohol. He knows it'd probably help the nerves that are crawling along his skin beneath his sweater, but he doesn't like not being in control of his faculties. The last thing he wants to do is get tipsy and accidentally tell Kuroo that his hair doesn't look as bad as it usually does or that his ass looks _really_ good in those jeans. And that's saying something, considering he doesn't have much of an ass to begin with.

Not that Kenma's noticed, or anything.

As it gets closer to the time when the opening band will start the show, the crowd gets denser. People pack into the venue and the open space Kenma admired earlier quickly fills up with bodies. Before the music even begins, Kenma can feel the walls starting to close in. The air feels stale and thin, and he struggles to breathe. He clutches his cup tightly, telling himself that he's fine, that nobody there is going to notice him, nobody is going to look at him, nobody is going to touch him. He's fine. He's fine.

The music starts and the fans scream. A woman in a band t-shirt jostles Kenma, knocking him into Kuroo. Kuroo places his arm around his waist to steady him, and Kenma presses in closer, taking comfort in Kuroo's solid presence. But all too soon, Kuroo's arm falls away, and although he stays close, Kenma feels as though a chasm has grown between them. The ground shifts under his feet, as dizziness starts to blur his vision.

It's too loud. There are too many people. They keep bumping into him, shouting in his ear.

It's sensory overload, and Kenma's chest grips his lungs, squeezing tightly.

Without warning, he drops his cup and turns, shoving his way through the crowd, trying to find the door. There are so many people moving about, pushing him back and forth and side to side unwittingly, and he gets completely turned around. Tears of frustration burn in his eyes, and when he finally manages to make it to the doors, he pushes them as hard as he can and stumbles out into the cold night air.

He collapses on the edge of the sidewalk, bending over his knees and gasping for breath. His ears are ringing, and his skin itches. He rubs at his arms, blinking back tears, as he stares down into the slush beneath his feet and concentrates on his breathing. He watches the white mist that puffs from his mouth with each exhale, using the sight of it dissipating to help calm his stuttering heart.

The door opens behind him a few minutes later.

"Kenma? Are you okay?"

Kenma pushes his glasses up his forehead, as he presses his palms into his eyes, trying to force the tears back inside them. What will Kuroo think of him if he sees him like this? Will he think he's weak? Will he equate him to a frighten child in his mind? Will he write him off as pathetic and not want to spend time with him anymore?

For some reason that last thought hits Kenma's chest like a punch, and he barely manages to stifle the sob hidden beneath his exhale.

"Hey . . ." Kuroo moves to sit on the curb beside him.

Kenma feels warm fingertips brushing his hair behind his ear. An attempt to see his face, no doubt. But Kenma keeps his face hidden behind his hands. Kuroo lifts the glasses off his forehead, which Kenma's grateful for since they'd been threatening to fall off.

"Crowds aren't really your thing, huh?"

Kenma grows still, surprised by Kuroo's perception.

"Shit, Kenma. I'm sorry. I didn't even think to ask . . . I was so excited to go see this band with you . . . they're one of my favorites and I just . . . wanted to share that with you, I guess."

Kenma's quiet for a moment, not entirely sure what to think of that. _Why would he want to share his favorite music with me?_

It feels as though he's losing control of this working relationship. Kuroo obviously thinks there's something more going on between them.

 _Maybe he just wants to be your friend,_ his brain chides him.

Kenma bites his lip. He can't really remember the last time he had a friend. At least, not the type of friend that takes you to concerts and gets excited to see you and seems to enjoy your presence despite how boring you are.

And he finds the prospect of being friends with Kuroo . . . not unpleasant.

"Maybe make a mixtape."

Kuroo laughs, and Kenma can hear the anxiety that laced his tone earlier fading away.

"Are you okay?" he asks again then.

Kenma sniffles. "I'm fine."

Lifting his head, he turns to blink up at Kuroo, his features blurred slightly in the absence of his glasses. His vision isn't weak enough to miss the look of surprise that crosses over Kuroo's face as their eyes meet, however.

"What?" he asks, wondering if he wasn't able to force back all the tears. He wipes at his cheeks, but they're dry.

"Your eyes . . ." Kuroo says softly.

Kenma grows still, his heart picking up speed once more. "What about them?" he asks, self-consciousness rising within him.

"You have dreamboat eyes," Kuroo murmurs. He continues to stare, entranced, and Kenma quickly grabs his glasses back, shoving them on so quickly he nearly pokes himself in the eye. Kuroo blinks, his lips quirking. "Careful."

"Are you going to say something sappy like I shouldn't wear glasses anymore because my eyes are too pretty to hide or something?" Kenma asks, pulling his legs to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. It sounds like something a guy would say to a girl in a romance movie. Maybe he'd even use that line in his book.

On second thought, it's pretty corny.

"Absolutely not," Kuroo says, shaking his head.

Now it's Kenma's turn to blink in surprise.

"Those are dangerous eyes. A man could fall in love with eyes like those. Best keep them hidden." He smirks, looking away then, cheeks flushed, though Kenma can't tell if that's from the cold or not.

Kenma snorts at the comment. "Unlikely," he says, shaking his head.

Kuroo glances sidelong at him. "What's unlikely?"

"Nobody's going to fall in love with me." It's something he accepted years ago once he realized he couldn't stand most people and most people didn't seem that interested in him in return. He knows he's boring and blunt and doesn't like to go places or do things people generally consider fun. Besides, he likes being alone.

At least, that's what he's told himself for weeks and months.

 _Being alone and being lonely are two separate things_ , his mind reminds him.

He tries to ignore it.

Kuroo's watching him strangely. "Why do you think that?" he asks.

Kenma shrugs. "I'm boring and average. I'm not really attractive or tall or good at anything besides writing. I don't think I'd be very fun to date." He gestures to the club behind them. "Exhibit A."

Kuroo smiles faintly, reaching out to tug on the ends of his hair lightly. "I don't think you're giving yourself enough credit."

"I ruined our date," Kenma says pointedly.

Kuroo shrugs. "I can listen to their music anytime. I already have their next album preordered. And I bet you got some stuff for your book already. You seem pretty observant. So, really, neither of us has lost anything . . . except maybe the feeling in our asses. Shit, this sidewalk is cold."

He gets to his feet, holding his hand out for Kenma to take. "Let's walk around a bit to warm up, and then I'll take you home."

Kenma looks at his hand, struck again by Kuroo's kindness. He hesitates only briefly before reaching up to take his hand, pulling himself to his feet. Kuroo squeezes gently before releasing him in favor of putting his hands inside his coat pockets, starting off down the sidewalk. Kenma follows.

They walk in silence for a while, Kuroo watching the city, Kenma watching the concrete in front of their feet.

His mind keeps replaying Kuroo's compliment about his eyes. _"A man could fall in love with eyes like those."_ Did he mean that? Was that something a friend would say to another? There's also the fact that he used the word "man" instead of "person." Why had he?

It's too confusing to dwell on it. Kenma instead thinks about his book and scenes he can write when he gets home. Mei and Tetsuya have grown closer throughout the chapters. They were always close, of course, caring about each other as people and as partners. Kenma would even venture to say that they loved each other. He wants this relationship shift to feel natural, but he wonders if he's having them move too slowly. At this rate, he isn't even sure if he can fit a kiss anywhere.

How would he even describe the kiss? He doesn't know what a kiss feels like. He stops walking abruptly at this realization.

Is he going to have to kiss Kuroo for research?

For some reason this thought makes his stomach flip uneasily. He feels sick.

_I don't want that._

"Kenma?" Kuroo's gone ahead of him a few paces and has now stopped, turning to look at him quizzically. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Kenma shakes his head to clear it, moving to join him.

 

 

 

 

***

 

 

Kenma knows he doesn't necessarily have to date Kuroo anymore. He pretty much understands how the basic formula goes, and he has more than enough corny lines from Kuroo to build up Tetsuya's repertoire. But he finds himself not willing to quit their arrangement just yet.

He enjoys spending time with Kuroo, an actual, living breathing human being, something he never thought possible. He's entertained by the man's seemingly endless knowledge of useless facts (something he learned on a date to a museum), and even his terrible puns and jokes are amusing, if only because it's fun to mock them. But the main reason Kenma likes going out with Kuroo is a selfish one: Kuroo seems to enjoy going out with him as well.

More often than not it's Kuroo pounding on his door, interrupting Kenma's gaming or writing session to take him somewhere. Normally, Kenma would find such disruption annoying, but Kuroo seems so _happy_ and _excited_ that Kenma can't find it in him to refuse.

So they end up going many places over the next few months. Kuroo takes him to museums and festivals, to bakeries and parks. He even takes him to see the Christmas illuminations, which is something generally reserved for authentic couples. But Kenma doesn't care. He lets himself get caught up in the beauty of the lights, lights he's only ever seen from afar, never having had anyone to take him into the heart of them before.

It's amazing, and Kuroo keeps stealing glances at him when he thinks Kenma isn't looking, smiling that strange smile that Kenma can't quite read. It makes him feel warm and self-conscious all at once, and he's grateful for the large scarf that hides most of his face.

 _This is stupid,_ he tells himself that night, as they walk together just close enough to hold hands if they wanted. With each swing of his arm, Kenma contemplates reaching out, curious to know how Kuroo's hand would feel with his fingers laced through his. He could even dismiss the action as being for research. But that thought leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

Still, he clings to the fact that Kuroo likes his company, and their dates have been _fun_. They're something for which Kenma finds himself anticipating with excitement. It's strange, because this feeling usually only visits him when there's going to be a new release of a game he really wants.

But it's not a bad feeling. It's not a bad feeling at all.

 

 

 

 

Kenma's in the middle of writing an intense scene between Mei and Tetsuya, the one he's been building toward for months, one he's agonized over to get _just right_ , when a loud banging on a door causes him to nearly jump out of his skin. For a second he sits paralyzed, eyes wide, afraid the knock had been at his own door. But then he hears the sound of a door opening and realizes it's Kuroo who has a visitor.

He can't understand Kuroo's greeting, but he sounds surprised. He does, however, hear the voice of the visitor, unmistakably female, loud and angry.

"I can't believe you! All this time I thought it was me. I thought I'd done something wrong or-or that you just couldn't handle commitment or we just didn't click as well as I thought. But I saw you on a date with that boy! Is that why you broke up with me? Are you gay?"

Kenma inhales sharply, staring at the wall in front of him. He knows he should probably not eavesdrop on what seems like a _very_ personal conversation. But then again . . . they _are_ talking loud enough for the whole building to hear.

"We're not dating, at least, not . . . for real. He's just a friend."

Kenma's chest aches, but he tries to ignore it. Pulling his feet up onto the edge of his desk chair, he bites at his thumbnail, as he stares at the cursor on his computer screen.

"I saw you two talking in the park. I was going to say hi, just to catch up or something, but then I saw the way you were looking at him. I'm not stupid, Tetsurou. I know that look. You used to give me that look."

"Then you should know that I cared about you. I _do_ care about you. It's just . . . it's complicated."

"Then uncomplicate it."

Kuroo's silent, and Kenma can imagine him running his hand through his hair, rubbing at the back of his neck as he looks off to the side, trying to gather his thoughts. He does that often when he's stressed, though Kenma's only seen him do it on a couple of occasions.

"Hikari, I loved you. I honestly did. But I didn't . . . I asked you out because I thought I was supposed to. I thought that's what was expected of me. I have a good, stable job that I do really well at, and I knew my parents would want me to settle down and start a family. You were really sweet and beautiful and kind and I . . . fell in love with the concept of you, I guess. I know that's not great to hear, but I _did_ end up loving you. I loved you so much . . . I knew I had to let you go. It wasn't fair to you to keep you when I knew it wasn't what I truly wanted . . . I'm sorry."

Kenma can hear the pain and defeat in Kuroo's voice and it cuts into him like a knife. He lowers his feet to the floor, moving to stand. He turns toward the door before stopping.

 _What am I doing?_ He blinks at the wall. He wants to help, but he has no idea how. Does Kuroo even want him to help? Would it be better to leave him alone to sort this out himself? But what kind of friend would he be if he just let Kuroo suffer alone?

Kenma finds himself stepping out of the apartment. He reaches Kuroo's door and is just about to knock when it opens, revealing a beautiful woman with long black hair and brown eyes shaded in gold. She's been crying, and there are black tear stains from where her mascara has run. She blinks in surprise at Kenma, before her expression hardens.

"He's a liar," she tells him flatly. "If he lied to me, he'll lie to you."

She pushes past him then, leaving for the stairs. When Kenma turns back to the doorway, he sees Kuroo standing there, his features drawn. He looks older than Kenma's ever seen him, and his shoulders are slumped as though the weight of the world is on them.

"Kuroo . . ."

"Now really isn't a good time, Kenma," Kuroo says, shaking his head slightly.

Kenma steps forward, gathering his courage to reach out and touch Kuroo's arm with the tips of his fingers. "You're upset . . ."

Kuroo forces a smile and it's painful to see. "I'll be fine."

Kenma frowns. "I want to help."

"I don't want you to trouble yourself. Go back to writing, or whatever you were doing. I promise I'll be okay."

Kenma's frown deepens, as his heart aches. "That's not fair. You can't be my friend in the good times and then push me away when things get bad. That's not how it works. Mei and Tetsuya stay by each other's side no matter what. _Especially_ when things get bad."

Kuroo's lips twitch. "Did you just compare us to your characters?"

Kenma huffs, trying unsuccessfully to force his cheeks to cool. "I was just using an example."

Kuroo studies him for a moment before stepping back, allowing Kenma inside. "I was just cooking dinner. Are you hungry?"

Kenma shrugs, that not being the most important thing on his mind just then. Still, he follows Kuroo into the kitchen, taking a seat on the counter, as Kuroo picks up a knife and starts dicing some vegetables that had been lying out on a cutting board. Kenma kicks his feet silently, watching Kuroo and wondering if he's going to need to press the matter.

Only a few minutes pass, however, before Kuroo starts speaking, his eyes on what he's doing.

"I started cooking for my mom when I was eight," he starts. It's not the topic Kenma expected, but he listens attentively all the same. "My dad had left us and she was . . . really distraught. My mom is pretty much the strongest person I know, but for the first few months she could barely function, she was so heartbroken. So I started cooking for her. I wanted to make her smile again, to be useful, so I had fun with it. I'd make shapes out of fruit and sandwiches. I looked up recipes to make our simple meals look fancy and taste better. And I got really good at it and realized it was something I wanted to keep doing, even after my mom picked herself back up and started being my mom again. It feels good to brighten people's lives, even if it's just a small thing like giving them a good meal that makes them happy."

He puts the vegetables into a pot on the stove, and Kenma realizes he's making ramen. The real kind. Kenma's mouth starts salivating without his consent. He purses his lips to make sure no drool escapes and focuses on Kuroo's story.

"Is that it?" he asks blinking as Kuroo doesn't continue.

Kuroo looks up with a faint grin. "The only other person I've told that is Hikari. I don't . . . really talk about my dad. To anyone."

Kenma's heart stutters, and he curses the traitorous muscle. "Why are you telling me?" he asks, unable to help himself.

Kuroo tilts his head. "You said we were friends. And . . . I trust you." He leans his hip against the counter, as the noodles boil behind him. "So now it's your turn," he says, his grin shifting into a smirk. "What's your deepest secret, Kozume Kenma?"

Kenma scowls down at his feet. "I don't have any," he lies, his stomach and heart dancing a strange tango that makes him feel ill.

"Everyone has secrets~," Kuroo sings.

"Has anyone ever told you you're nosy and annoying?" Kenma asks, shooting him a glare.

"Yep!" Kuroo says brightly, turning to stir the noodles some. He seems to be in a better mood from earlier, but Kenma can't help but remember the look on Kuroo's face as he stood behind the door, the pain his voice when he spoke to Hikari.

"You did the right thing."

Kuroo lifts his head, startled. "What?"

Kenma twists his ankles together. "Breaking up with your ex. It was the right thing to do."

Kuroo bites his lip. "I didn't tell her the truth."

"But you needed to let her go. Staying together would've just made you both miserable. You know that."

Kuroo stares down into the water, steam obscuring his expression. "I hurt her."

"That was probably unavoidable."

Kuroo sighs, rubbing his forehead. "I hated myself for it. I still do, I think. Kind of."

"That's stupid." Kenma kicks at his thigh lightly with his foot. "You're not a bad person, Kuroo."

Kuroo gives him a faint half-smile. "You think?"

Kenma nods.

Suddenly, Kuroo is standing directly in front of him. Kenma leans back automatically, eyes widening, as Kuroo leans forward and rests his forehead against Kenma's shoulder. He sighs, his shoulders slumping.

"Thank you," he murmurs.

Kenma grips the edge of the counter, not sure what to do. Does he pat his back? Stroke his hair? His fingers dig into the granite so tightly that they begin to ache.

"I'm not going to try to but . . . I apologize in advance if I ever hurt you somehow," Kuroo says, his voice thick.

". . . Okay." Kenma swallows hard against the lump in his throat, staring over Kuroo's shoulder to the cabinets opposite him.

Kuroo leans back slowly. Their faces are close. So close, Kenma can see flecks of brown in the amber of his eyes, a sprinkling of faint freckles across his nose. His lungs burn, and he realizes he's holding his breath. But if he exhales now, it'll be directly into Kuroo's face. He can't meet the direct gaze, so he focuses on the freckles, hoping the tremors he feels under his skin aren't evident on the outside.

Kuroo's tongue flickers over his lips. Kenma's eyes dart to the side, his heart sounding loud in his ears.

"Kenma, I—"

"Your noodles are burning."

They're not, but Kuroo turns away quickly to check, and Kenma can breathe again. He hops off the counter, moving quickly to the living area. He sits down at the low table, pressing his forehead against the cool surface.

 _This is stupid._ He panicked. He has no idea what Kuroo had been about to say, but he grew nervous at their proximity, frightened by the intimacy of the moment. He's not sure why. Kuroo was probably just going to thank him for listening or something. There was no reason to be anxious in that moment. And yet . . .

"You okay?"

Kenma lifts his head to find Kuroo standing beside the table, two bowls of steaming ramen on a tray in his hands. Straightening, he nods, keeping his eyes on the food. Kuroo sets down the tray and takes his bowl and a pair of chopsticks, Kenma does the same. Together they put their hands together to say thank you for the food. The steam from the broth fogs up Kenma's glasses, and Kuroo snickers softly, as Kenma quickly wipes them clean on his sweater.

The food is delicious, but of course Kenma knew it would be. He notices Kuroo watching him, as he eats. He appears expectant; probably waiting for Kenma to declare it's the best he's ever had. While it is, he doesn't necessarily feel like saying so, especially when he knows Kuroo will probably get annoying about it.

So he keeps silent and enjoys his meal silently. Finally, Kuroo blurts out, "so?! what do you think?"

Kenma slurps a noodle into his mouth before lifting his head. "What do I think about what?" he asks, feigning ignorance.

Kuroo practically vibrates in his seat. "The food!" he gestures to the bowl. "What do you think of it?"

Kenma shrugs, hiding a smile behind his hair as he takes another bite. "It's okay."

"It's okay, he says!" Kuroo throws up his hands. "This ramen is famous in my restaurant! People go crazy over it! They send compliments to the chef every time they have it! And he says it's 'okay'!"

Kenma bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. "It's better than cup noodles."

"Oh wow, what high praise."

Kenma giggles, he can't help himself. Kuroo blinks at him, his lips forming an 'O' before he laughs. "You brat!" he says, reaching over to steal one of Kenma's vegetables.

Kenma smacks at his chopsticks with his own.

"If you're not going to appreciate my cooking, I'll just eat it myself!" Kuroo declares, trying to get around Kenma's chopsticks.

Kenma pulls the bowl closer, biting at Kuroo's fingers with his chopsticks. A short war ensues, chopsticks clacking together as Kuroo laughs and Kenma grins. In the end, Kuroo surrenders, settling back with his own bowl and shaking his head.

"You fought well. What does the champion want as his reward?" Kuroo asks with a smirk.

_A kiss._

The words rise up unbidden, and Kenma snaps his mouth shut before they can escape. Pressing his lips in a firm line, he shakes his head, quickly turning back to his food. Kuroo waits, but when no reply is forthcoming, he clears his throat awkwardly and returns to his own bowl. The rest of the meal passes in silence, and Kenma's skin crawls at the strange tension that's fallen over the room.

When he finishes, he moves to stand. "I have to go."

Kuroo looks up at him, disappointment evident in his eyes. Kenma turns away to keep from seeing it. "Oh. Okay."

"I meant what I said earlier," Kenma says, staring at the floor. "I . . . might not always know the right things to say but . . . you can talk to me if you need to."

"Thank you," Kuroo says after a brief pause. "The same applies for you."

Kenma nods briefly before quickly hurrying out of the apartment.

 

 

 

 

A few days later, his editor returns to him his latest chapter with a few suggestions and typo corrections. At the end of the email, there's a single name followed by a question mark: _" Tetsurou?"_

Kenma's completely confused . . . until he opens up the chapter and reads over his last scene.

It's the kiss scene. The one he struggled to decide whether or not to write but chose to include right before Mei and Tetsuya's final battle against the villain they've been investigating. It was a scene charged with emotion, when Mei realizes that she fears for Tetsuya's life more than she ever has. When she realizes that she'd be truly lost without her partner, and that if anything happened to him, she'd be completely devastated.

Tetsuya made a stupid joke, and instead of rolling her eyes at him the way she usually did, she grabbed his face and kissed him hard. Kenma had wrestled with this scene, not entirely sure if he was describing the kiss well at all, but as he looks over the paragraph now, he realizes that the description of the kiss isn't what he needs to be worried about at the moment.

_Mei's fingers tremble, as they press against either side of Tetsuya's head. His lips are chapped, bitten almost raw from earlier, but they're soft and pliant against her own. As she presses closer, Tetsurou's arms wrap around her waist—_

Oh.

Kenma stares at the name, his heart pounding, quick and loud against his ribcage. He hadn't even noticed.

Heat rushes up his neck and cheeks, and when Jiji jumps into his lap, kneading her paws into his thigh, he stares down at her in despair.

"I screwed up," he tells her.

Jiji simply turns around once before settling down in his lap, twisting to expose her stomach for rubs. Kenma obliges absently, his brain whirring.

It's just a coincidence, right? Tetsuya and Tetsurou are very similar names. It's an easy mistake to make.

Only Kenma can remember exactly what was on his mind as he wrote this chapter. He'd been so anxious about writing the kiss scene well, that he'd envisioned himself kissing Kuroo. He told himself it was purely for research purposes. He pictured how he'd have his hands, where he'd like Kuroo to place his. He took the image of Kuroo's lips and thought about what they might feel like.

Apparently he was so caught up in the fantasy he mistakenly wrote Kuroo's given name instead of the name of his protagonist.

_What does this mean?_

It's a stupid question. Kenma knows what it means. He's just afraid to address it.

This was supposed to be a business arrangement. This wasn't supposed to turn into anything real. He's never wanted to be in a relationship. He's always been fine on his own. Secure. Independent. And if he's sometimes lonely, well he can deal with that. He _has_ been dealing with it. Kuroo's friendship is nice and enjoyable, but that's all it is. It's just a friendship. Surely Kuroo has no interest in him in that way.

_But what if he does?_

Kenma curses his treacherous brain, but the thought lingers.

Kuroo had been about to say something in that kitchen before Kenma interrupted him.

What had he been about to say?

Kenma stares at his computer screen, stares at the name he'd written. There's no point in asking him. It's unlikely that in only a few months Kuroo's grown to care for and like Kenma as much as Kenma has grown to care for and like him. These feelings are probably not even real; he's never been this close to anyone, aside from Alisa, so it'd make sense that he might confuse platonic affection with something deeper.

Then again . . .

Kenma reaches for his phone.

"Kisa~ you decided to finally call me again! It's been weeks!"

"I've been busy."

"Yes, Lev told me he barely sees you outside of the apartment anymore. Not unless you're going on a date with Kuroo . . . how's that going?" There's a mischievous lilt to her voice that Kenma doesn't trust at all, but this _is_ the whole reason he called.

"How do you know if you like someone? Like . . . more than platonically."

To her credit, Alisa doesn't immediately squeal and start planning his wedding. Instead, she hums thoughtfully for a moment before answering.

"Well, do you think about him often? Do you wish you could be with him all the time? Do you get irrationally upset if you think about him with someone else? Do you fantasize about him?"

Kenma blinks in the onset of these questions. He finds himself speechless for a moment, knowing the answer to every single one of them but not wanting to admit it. In the end he simply says, sullenly,

"I never said it was a him."

Alisa laughs. "You didn't have to. I know my little Kisa."

Kenma sighs, dropping his head back to stare at the ceiling. "I don't know what to do."

"Well, the first step would be to tell him, I think."

Kenma grimaces. "What if he doesn't feel the same?"

"Kenma, I've known you for a very long time now. I can't imagine anyone not liking you once you've let them past your shell. And I think you've done so with Kuroo-san . . . am I wrong?"

Kenma chews on his lip. He hasn't exactly divulged any super intimate details with Kuroo or anything. But then again, it's not as though he has a very interesting life to tell. He's shared his story ideas with him, his games, his hopes for the future . . . and all of these things are topics he holds close to his heart.

So he supposes, in a way, he has let Kuroo inside his walls.

He hadn't even realized.

"You should tell him," Alisa says, gentler this time. "Don't sabotage your own happiness just because you're afraid you're not worth it."

Kenma swallows hard. He glances at the clock. Kuroo's dinner shift starts in an hour. He'll be leaving for the restaurant within the next ten minutes. His heart is pounding in his throat, but he knows if he stays in this chair he'll let this opportunity pass by and fall back into complacency. He's not a risk-taker. In fact, he generally avoids anything that might cause him to embarrass himself.

But then again, he took a chance on Mei and Tetsuya and now they're two of the most important things in his life. They haven't let him down yet.

Something tells him Kuroo won't either.

"I have to go."

He hangs up before Alisa can reply. Setting Jiji on the ground, he hurries quickly to the door. Pulling on his shoes and grabbing his hoodie, he rushes outside. After pounding on Kuroo's door for a few minutes, he checks the time and realizes Kuroo must have already left. He runs for the stairs.

_I have to do this now. I'll talk myself out of it otherwise._

He bursts outside with a gasp, grimacing as he's immediately drenched in rainwater. He hadn't even noticed the storm. Shaking strands of wet hair out of his eyes, he squints up the street, noticing a red umbrella with dozens of tiny cats on them.

 _Kuroo_.

He sprints faster than he ever has in his life.

"Kuroo!"

Kuroo stops at a curb, lifting his head and looking about quizzically. Kenma grabs his elbow when he reaches him, doubling over then to gasp for breath and grab the awful stitch in his side. Kuroo stares down at him in disbelief.

"Kenma?! What are you doing? Shit, you're soaking."

He steps closer, holding the umbrella over both of them, as though that will help. Kenma shivers, the cold spring rain chilling him straight to the bone. He can barely see out of his glasses for the rainwater that's clinging to them, so he pulls them off and tucks them into his hoodie pocket before straightening and locking eyes with a slightly blurry Kuroo, stealing his resolve.

He thinks he sees concern in Kuroo's eyes, his lips are frowning, as he searches Kenma's face for an explanation. He smells good, and Kenma can feel the warmth of his proximity. He wants to lean into that warmth, only he'd get Kuroo wet and that probably wouldn't be good.

"Kenma?"

"I don't want to date anymore," he blurts out.

Kuroo's eyes widen. "Oh. You . . . finished your book?" His lips twitch in what might be a smile, but appears to be more of a grimace.

Kenma shakes his head. "No. I mean, I'm close to the end but . . . but that's not what I meant."

Kuroo's brows furrow slightly. "I thought you enjoyed our time together. Did I do something wrong?"

"No, no, that's not what I meant either!" Kenma can feel frustration building inside him, a pressure weighing against his chest as he tries to think of how to say what he needs to say. His hands curl into fists at his sides, as he trembles.

"Then what—"

"I wrote a kiss scene between Mei and Tetsuya, but I wrote your name instead."

"You . . . wrote my name?"

Kenma nods, inhaling deeply to try and steady himself. People are walking by on both sides, the pedestrian light having turned green. Kuroo stays where he is, though, peering down at him with confusion, as the rain hits his umbrella with soft _pitter-patters_. Kenma feels chilled to the bone and wants nothing more than to escape this miserable weather and this awkward conversation, but he stands his ground.

"I've never kissed anyone before, so I didn't know how to write it. I thought maybe I could just imagine it, and I didn't know who else to think about, so I thought about you. But it wasn't the first time. I . . . I've wanted to kiss you for a while, but I didn't want it to be for research as part of a fake date. I wanted it to be real. I-I want this . . ." Kenma gestures between them. "To be real."

Kuroo stares down at him, eyes wide. Kenma trembles, not sure what to do in the growing silence. His heart begins to sink into his stomach, and he ducks his head. His hair is plastered to his face, so he's unable to hide completely, but he tries his best, as his anxiety grows.

Then he feels a warm touch against his forehead. Kuroo's fingers brush back his hair, tucking it behind his ear. They linger on his cheek, and Kenma lifts his head to see Kuroo looking down at him with an expression so tender, heat spreads through him from his neck and ears, and down into his chest.

"I've wanted it to be real for a while too," Kuroo admits quietly, and Kenma freezes, blinking rapidly. Kuroo grins crookedly. "It's true. I think from that very first date I wanted it to be real. But it wasn't supposed to be so I tried my best to only give you what you wanted. It was torture."

Kenma nods, understanding completely. Kuroo suddenly looks nervous. His hand falls away from Kenma's face, and he bites his lip, eyes turning toward the sidewalk between them.

"I don't know how well I'll do in a real relationship. I fucked up my last one pretty badly . . ."

Kenma tilts his head. "You didn't really want that one, though."

Kuroo lifts his gaze, smiling faintly. "That's true," he admits.

"And you want me, right? You just said so."

Kuroo's smile widens. "I did."

Kenma lifts his hands to the side. "So it won't be the same. You can't compare the two."

"You really have that much faith in me?" Kuroo asks, but he's grinning now, as though he already knows the answer.

Kenma huffs. "Don't ask stupid questions," he says, grabbing the front of Kuroo's jacket and pulling him down to him, as he lifts himself onto his toes to meet him halfway in a kiss.

It tastes like rainwater, but it's warm, incredibly warm, and Kuroo's hand settles on his waist almost immediately. Kuroo leans into the kiss, allowing Kenma to lower himself to stand normally, and his lips, though chapped and swollen from being bitten, are soft and pliant, just as Kenma imagined them to be.

He's not sure how long they stand there, lips moving slowly, gauging what angles feel good and which ones are awkward. At one point Kuroo licks along the seam of Kenma's mouth, and he can't suppress the shiver that runs down his spine as he opens for Kuroo and allows him inside.

But then he starts shivering for an entirely different reason, and quite suddenly he pulls away in order to sneeze loudly into the crook of his elbow.

Kuroo startles, before laughing. "You should go home and get warmed up," he says fondly, reaching up to tug at the ends of Kenma's wet hair. "I'll be home around midnight. If you're still up . . . we could revisit this?"

Kenma sniffles. "Okay," he says, tucking his hands underneath his elbows in an attempt to conserve body heat.

Kuroo leans down once more in order to place a small kiss against Kenma's forehead. "Thank you," he says softly.

Kenma blinks at him blankly.

"For giving me a chance," he explains, and the smile he gives him next is almost shy.

Kenma cheeks flush, and he looks away. "You're going to be late for work."

"I'll just tell them my boyfriend chased me down in the rain to give me a goodbye kiss because he's going to miss me so much."

Kenma glares, even as Kuroo laughs and tweaks his nose.

"I'll see you tonight."

It's only when Kuroo's already across the street that Kenma realizes Kuroo just called him his boyfriend.

He tucks his chin into his chest to hide his smile as he slips his glasses on and makes his way back to the apartment.

He supposes romance isn't so bad after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I edited this at 4am, so I apologize if I missed any typos. /)u(\ I really wanted to get this up in time, hehe. <3
> 
> http://shions-heart.tumblr.com/


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